I enjoy the writings of the poet, David Whyte. I wanted to add words to this photograph I made ... found, here in Rarotonga.
An extract from his poem, Courage, seemed perfect.
People tell me I'm brave, that I have courage but I have this idea that it's just as brave to choose to stay, sometimes.
We met after the wedding, as he photographed a particular gate there at the church. He told me the story of the place where he and his wife were married, and how the gate reminded him of it.
I mentioned that he reminded me of someone.
He suggested James Joyce.
I said, 'Maybe', as I rummaged round in my memory for images of Joyce.
It turns out, everyone else said he was Elton John ... 20 years ago. I didn't really look at Elton then but perhaps. There is a story about a carriage full of people on the Tube, or a train, thinking precisely that about him.
You can decide.
But perhaps he is simply one of those people who allow you to feel like you've known him a long time, and you respond to that.
On the day after the wedding, I wandered over to his website, and found this poem. I love it.
An extract, from Out of Shape Sonnet:
This is one of those tuneless songs of hope
A father scatters out into the universe
Because he wants the best for his child;
Independence,
Success of the non-material kind,
And, above all, happiness,
Happiness of the forever kind.
And then, Ren had a copy of his book, Bee Bones. You can buy a signed copy over here.
I read enough, between processing the wedding photographs, to know I'll find my own copy now that I'm back in the UK. I reached that point where the father and son have just begun their journey ...
His book, Dead Men, was nominated for the Guardian First Book Award. It's another to hunt down, sooner or later.
A review:
Washington Independent Review of Books, 18 June 2012
Who said literary works tend to be boring? This debut novel by Richard Pierce proves a poetically written narrative can also be riveting and engrossing.
This is not a lengthy novel and the author uses every word, sentence and verbal image to craft and layer his themes. This is a love story, a historical novel, a polar expedition and a ghostly tale. From an initial improbability, page after page draws the reader in. As the author’s first effort at full-length fiction, it is a notable success. I highly recommend this novel.
Arthur Kerns.
You can read more on his website.
I met this man, and his wife, at the wedding and they are, so very kindly, allowing me to use the photographs I took of them.
Richard Pierce was born in Doncaster in 1960.
He was educated in Germany, and at the University of Cambridge.
He now lives in Suffolk with Marianne and their four children.
Richard is a novelist, poet and painter, and administers two charities
He has a Youtube channel, and an Amazon author's page too, if you would like to know more.
Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth.
Katherine Mansfield ... one of my favourite New Zealand writers, the only writer Virginia Woolf ever envied, a woman who truly went out there and lived life.
Stylistically, the influence of Katherine’s writing was profound. Virginia wrote: “You seem to me to go so straightly and directly – all clear as glass – refined, spiritual…” After Katherine’s death she confided to her diary it was: “the only writing I have ever been jealous of.”
She was a remarkable woman left out of all of my school curriculums - a fact that stuns me now that I realise just how remarkable she was, both as a writer and as a woman.
Anyway, September 26-27, 2015 ...
I have 2 mountaineering authors I enjoy more than all others and one of them is Andrew Greig, author of the book titled Summit Fever.
Perhaps this write-up captures what I found so enjoyable about his book: When poet Andrew Greig was asked by Scottish mountaineer Mal Duff to join his ascent of the Mustagh Tower in the Karakoram Himalayas, he had a poor head for heights and no climbing experience whatsoever. The result is this unique book.
Summit Fever has been loved by climbers and literary critics alike for its refreshing candour, wit, insight and the haunting beauty of its writing. Much more than a book about climbing, it celebrates the risk, joy and adventure of being alive.
But having 'discovered' Andrew today, beyond rereading his book and carrying it with me as I've moved towns and countries, I have truly enjoyed finding his poetry and everything else too. He's a well-rounded artist it seems.
And I found Mal's Song (embedded below) ... beyond special. I'm on page 38, rereading my paperback version yet again and Mal is currently introducing Andrew to the mountains ... in preparation for their adventure in the Himalayas. Like in the song.
Mal Duff was an extraordinary man, a superb mountaineer, a good friend to many, and all kinds of other things that I can't possibly imagine, I'm sure. He died at Everest's base camp back in 1997.
Joe Simpson, who also had some epic times in the mountains with Mal, wrote of Mal's favourite quote in the introduction to Andrew's book, Summit Fever. The quote:
He either fears his fate too much
or his deserts are small,
that dares no put it to the touch
to win or lose it all.
- the Duke of Montrose.
But of course.
And that would be Joe Simpson, that other writer/mountaineer whose books I love.
I found this question over on Terri Windling's beautiful blog, Myth & Moor.
I was wandering alone for a month, back home in New Zealand, interviewing climbers and mountaineers for a book I wanted to put together. It was a month off from my first marriage. The synopsis went through two publishing meetings. They told me they loved it but they didn't feel there was a big enough audience. They gave me other publishing house names to send it to but my mother was diagnosed and I wandered off to university late.
I still have the manuscript but that was a long time ago.
Anyway ... way back then and I arrived in Wellington, at the home of my truly delightful friend, Michelle Bennie. I had her absent flatmate's bedroom. It was a small room in a beautiful old wooden house. Her flatmate was out of town. The bedroom was located on flimsy-looking stilts ... located on the side of a steep bush-covered hill there in Brooklyn. Possums on the roof at night, it offered a beautiful view over Wellington city.
I remember that this was the place where I first 'met' Isabel Allende, via a book on the bookshelf in that bedroom. I devoured 'Eva Luna' one rainy day, enjoying the strange and exotic taste of her story, curled up on someone else's bed in a city not my own.
I was in town to interview Matt Comesky. The loveliest high altitude climber I've ever met. He was on K2 with Bruce Grant and Alison Hargreaves when they were blown off the mountain. I so very much wanted to understand the mind of the climber way back then. I still do, and war photographers and journalists have joined the ranks of those who fascinate me.
Anyway ... Wellington, 1998, Isabel Allende was the bonus.